Kuebiko
by Jade Gliese
Summary: "You can settle for less than an ordinary life, or do you feel like you were born for something better, something special?" James more or less settles, but just when he was starting to get comfortable with ordinary, he realizes that police work is anything but. Months away from graduating from the academy, Jim finds himself playing the role of victim and premature investigator i
1. objectif

_"Welcome to the demobilization and accuracy course, please select your weapon and await the countdown."_

James T. Kirk stepped up to the firing line alongside fourty or so other cadets as the monotone and feminine voice of the simulator rang out over their heads. He didn't hesitate to reach for the lightest looking phaser pistol on the rack that had slid down from the ceiling to greet him as he approached the dark glass enclosure. He found that he preferred smaller weapons, the type II phaser didn't have the power some of of the heavier rifles offered, but he felt the range of movement and concealability more than made up for it. He layed the weapon on the stainless steel bench down range to secure his earbuds and slid his fingers over the small buttons of the wireless music player tucked into his waistband. Satisfied with his song selection, he straightened his posture, set the weapon to stun for safety and aimed down the target line just as the long countdown blaring over the firing range's speakers was drowned out by Beastie Boys "Intergalactic". Call him old fashioned, but classical had a way of settling his nerves in a way that the nu age electronic his dormmates preferred could not.

There was a single flash of one last warning alarm and the holographic image of a moving target blinked into existence before him. Reacting an impressive fraction of a second later, his finger curled down to meet the smooth cylindrical surface of the phaser trigger. The beam burst out and struck the dark and flickering image of a humanoid threat, not hitting the figure squarely in the chest but in the leg to wound. The projection realistically crumpled to the ground and faded just as another took its place behind a moving obstacle. Jim was fast, his eyes flicking back and fourth in increasing concentration as the course increased in difficulty. Multiple and varied humanoid targets were popping in and out of sight, giving him a small window of action as some of them were intertwined with the noticeably blue sillhouettes of simulated hostages. When one of them appeared to have its arms around one of the civilians in a threatening manner, Jim didn't hesitate to aim right above the squirming shoulder of the featureless yet distressed hostage hologram and shoot to kill his target. When the chaos of the moving threats had him pulled into the tunnelling routine of reload, aim, fire and repeat, the previously opaque barricades on either side of him turned transparent. Thrusting him into the difficult challenge of concentrating admist the distraction of his adjacent neighbors and consequently, their targets. Hostages were turning red from misaimed shots at the corner of his eye but he carried on until almost abruptly the targets stopped coming. He had made it through four songs by the time the weapon racks were sliding back down to greet him at the end of the simulation.

James let out the breath he'd been holding and pulled out his earbuds. Chatter filtered in around him as others were stretching the stiffness out of their shoulders and turning to compliment each other. It was easy to read the anxiety, some of the confidence in their faces as they were already trying to predict their performance scores. Jim was honestly just happy to have made it this far; but with just under a year of training and examination left he didn't think he could deal if he failed at this point. The past three years had been surprisingly taxing and not as unstimualting as he'd originallly suspected going in. He'd only consciously missed two out of just over a hundred possible targets, an accomplishment at this level. Yet he couldn't muster the same confidence in his performance that he had up until now, the last simulation he'd been put through hadn't gone as expected.

"I'm sure it was a cake walk for you, Jim." Someone clapped a hand on his back and he snapped out of thought as he realized that at some point he'd been surrounded by a group of other cadets standing in his area. He looked up, flashing a smile at his friend and dorm neighbor, Sulu before answering, "Nah, but I think I did alright."

"I did not think that it would be so intense." The light and heavily accented voice of Sulu's roomate and partner in crime Chekov piped in. Jim found himself distracted once more as the teasing about Pavel's predictably excellent performance started amongst the group. There was one person still standing near Jim's spot at the firing line. The weapon rack was still down and waiting for the user to return their weapon. The immediate area was consequently still bathed with crimson light to signify the station was in use but no one seemed to pay any mind. Sensing something was off, Jim took a step towards the turned back of a cadet aiming at something in front of him.

"Mitchell?" He called out to the familiar back of his classmate who didn't turn around to face him. The brunette seemed to be staring and pointing the phaser at something just beyond the bench, but when Jim followed his line of sight he found nothing at the end of the barrel. Only blank space and the shaky grip of the man holding the weapon. He covered one of Mitchell's hands with his, and pushed lightly to lower his aim. "Everything alright, Gary?"

"I missed every shot."

Jim shifted uncomfortably in place, "What?"

"I missed every shot, didn't you see?" He fixed Kirk with a piercing look. "Didn't you see," He repeated, "You were right next to me."

"No I guess I just keep my eye on my course." He regretted it the minute it came out of his mouth, "But you know I'm sure it wasn't that bad." He raised a hand to clap his friend on the shoulder reassuringly, but stiffened when he noticed the unreadable expression Mitchell was fixing him with.

"If you're sure." Mitchell responded. The man held the phaser away from his body in what seemed to be an offer to Jim, but it was hard to tell with the way he was staring at him and the fact that the weapon was aimed towards him. Jim still accepted and gripped the weapon, trying to keep the ejection end away from his body as he turned to replace it on the rack. If he noticed that the rifle was set to kill, he didn't choose to comment at that moment, instead watching Gary's as he turned away from the station and headed out into the hall.

"Everything alright?" It was Sulu, who had likely been standing close by the entire time.

"Yeah, just stress I guess." But he didn't have to guess. He'd noticed the changes in his once friendly fellow cadet and he knew he wasn't alone. People were saying Mitchell would wash out of the program and Sulu had probably heard the rumours as well.

There was a commotion by the door and the trainees were suddenly rushing out, presumably to see the scores that had appeared on the screen just outside the range. Sulu glanced at him reassuringly and they both followed the rest of the group out into the hall where the crowd had formed.

 **COURSE 26400: ACCURACY**

 **4546835...100%**

The words seemed excessively large and bright on the screen as a long list of identification numbers scrolled to the top of the seconds after he joined the crowd. Jim didn't need to scan the endless row of numbers for his own ID, his was the first one that popped up on the screen. He'd done well, in fact he'd gotten a perfect score. He swore that he missed two targets at some point, but it was hard to say for sure with so much going on towards the end of the course. There was another perfect score under his own name, and below that the next highest score was at ninety percent and the scores dropped from there. Before he could think too hard about the other person with his score he was being rushed by a very excited Chekov and Sulu. "I can't believe we scored in the top ten!" A few other cadets glanced over at them with mostly amusement. "Well, how'd you do?"

Jim scratched the back of his neck and smiled, "I didn't do bad."

Sulu cocked his head in doubt.

He completely caved, "Alright I aced it." Chekov vibrated in place in response while Sulu and a few others nearby congradulated him, "We have to celebrate." the younger cadet insisted.

"I don't know I might just cut out.." Jim was abruptly interrupted by someone shoving past him roughly. "Watch it!" He called out, and then stopped as the person turned to look at him. It was Mitchell, and Jim caught not a small amount of anger in his eyes before he turned away and pushed past the crowd to leave.

"That was very rude." Chekov commented.

By the time Jim stepped out of the bar he'd been dragged to just outside of the Presidio he was practically gasping for the fresh air. The place in question was some seedy and rather smokey little bar that probably kept itself open purely on the patronage of the trainees in his own dorm block and a few older starfleet officials avoiding the buzz of the busier parts of the city at this time of night. Still, he'd appreciated the distraction and the entertainment courtesy of Sulu and Chekov's drunken singing. They had insisted, upon Jim's announcement that he would be returning to the building, that he stay and leave with the group. He'd instead declined their offer, and after making sure that they wouldn't be stumbling home without a ride from one of the other cadets in their group, headed out to start the long walk home and a rare opportunity to clear his head.

He thought of what had happened with Mitchell. They'd been fast friends the first year of training, and he remembered the ease at which the other cadet had taken Jim under his wing when he'd first enrolled. It hadn't been easy to say the least, to accept the discipline that Pike had noticed was missing in him the day he'd found him on the floor of that bar back in Iowa.

" _So your dad died, you can settle for less than an ordinary life, or do you feel like you were born for something better, something special?_ "

But hadn't he settled? Pike had offered him a position in Starfleet. He'd even boarded that shuttle to San Francisco with full intention of leaving Iowa behind for sure but like so many things he hadn't followed through. He couldn't be George Kirk, and for a while he convinced himself that finding his own path mean that he didn't have to be. But then he'd watch a shuttle break orbit on quiet evenings and wondered if in his attempt to find his route to being a better man he hadn't gone the wrong way.

He hadn't realized how dark it was until now when he found that looking back he could barely make out where the marsh began and where the path ended. He continued down what he assumed was Old Mason street for his dorms, and found himself hyperaware of the silence that greeted him, interrupted only by the sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet as he moved among the trees. He stopped. He thought he heard the extra crunch of an extra pair of feet behind him. When he looked back to see if anyone was there, he was only greeted by the sight of swaying trees and the blinking and distant lights just outside the Presidio.

"Is someone there?"

Predictably, he didn't get an answer. But he doubted that another student would be skulking back to the dorms at this time of the night on a tuesday, and if it was someone with ill intent they were unlikely to answer.

"If you're out there...you should know that I'm not unarmed." He was lying, but his mugger didn't need to know that. He scoffed at his own paranoia and continued to along the path.

He estimated that about ten minutes passed; he was making out the buildings of his dorm block some distance away, and he heard it again. This time he didn't stop moving, instead looking over his shoulder with an unexpected and severe sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach that he'd never admit to feeling. This time he was certain and now he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, just out of sight. He was willing but not quite ready to have to defend himself after leaving the bar with a few drinks in him. Instead he picked up the pace and sighed a breath of relief when a few minutes later he was stepping into the illuminated stretch of academy housing and dorms.


	2. atteri

Jim burst into his shared room once the lock clicked open in recognition at the bar code on his key card.

"Damnit Jim, you scared the crap out of me." His roommate grumbled at him from somewhere under a stack of pillows on their couch.

"Bones?" Jim couldnt find the other man's face underneath the dizzying pattern of the couch cushions.

Leonard McCoy's head popped up to scowl at his close friend, "What are you rushin' in for anyway?"

"What? Nothing!" Jim quickly answered, embarrassed to admit that he'd nearly booked it all the way home in fear of what was probably just a stray cat. He shut the door behind him slowly. "Did I interrupt you mid-stroke or something?" He shot back.

Jim was answered with a pillow aimed at his face, the mishapen lump bounched off his head and slid to the floor. "You interrupted my god damn sleep." There was still a smile on McCoy's tired face when he threw his legs off of the armrest to face Jim.

It was just as well, Jim noticed that McCoy was still wearing his now completely wrinkled uniform. It would've been hard on his back the next morning if he spent the night on the couch. The older trainee had no doubt spent another night putting in extra hours at the local relief clinic as part of his field training. As much as his friend insisted that he was "just a country doctor", Jim knew he could've easily have been a medical officer on a starship, maybe even a chief. And just thinking about it, he knew that Bones had even less to lose than him by breaking orbit. Whatever practice and living situation the young doctor had alluded to having back in Georgia, it had probably dissolved right along with his marriage. Rather than leave he'd allowed his fear of space to keep him tethered just as Jim was and worked himself to the bone. Earth, Jim noted, had a way of doing that to people.

There was noise in the small living area as Bones started to pull off pristine looking white boots and tear off the velcro straps of his lab jacket. "I heard you had 264 today. How'd it go?"

McCoy's question roused Jim into finally moving away from the front door to toss his leather bag onto the couch. He threw himself down next to his roommate. "I didn't miss a shot."

McCoy picking up on his less than thrilled tone, "You passed? So then why do you sound like someone shot your dog."

"I don't have a dog." Jim responded, avoiding the question.

Bones slapped his friend's leg petulantly, "Damnit Jim, don't tell em you're still hurtin over the crisis simulation."

"No it's not that." Jim lied, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Good, cause that was three weeks ago. And no one, not even you can cheat death." There was an air of finality to his words, as if simply saying the words would eliminate any doubt in Jim's mind about his ability to be an officer. Simulation or not, they were tested in a high stakes hostage situation and all he'd learned was that when it came down to it, he would fail.

"You know who was upset though," he waited for Bones to glance at him questioningly; "Gary Mitchell. He practically ripped my head off when the scores came in."

"No kidding. What happened?"

"After the sim I caught him still standing there, just being...weird? Anyway he seemed pretty upset about missing every shot." He didn't mention the kill setting. He was worried but he didnt want Bones overreacting about something that could've been an accident. "Then after it was like he shoved by me on purpose when he heard my score."

McCoy frowned, and he seemed to think about it for a moment before reacting. "Well, all things considering his behavior doesn't exactly shock me."

"All things considering!? What does that even mean? Gary and I are friends, or at least I thought we were."

"Yeah?" Bones cocked his head skeptically at Jim before getting up from the couch with a grunt. Old man. He shuffled around the room in socks and uniform pants to disappear into his bedroom, "You better tell him that, cause I don't think he feels that way after you beat him out of that obstacle course." McCoy's voice faded as he headed to the far side of his room.

"Beat him..? He helped me!"

"Yeah, helped you beat him. If Mitchell hadn't helped you finish your last lap that day he would've beat your time in the pacer."

Jim furrowed his brows in confusion, "Well why didn't he just leave me behind if he didn't want to help me"

"You know you can't leave your partner behind in the pacer. But if you hadn't lost him those extra points in the run he wouldn't have gotten the lowest ranking."

Jim shook his head in disbelief, how long had this been a thing? "Wait a minute, you mean to tell me he's been holding this against me? That wasn't my fault. Bones you know that!"

"Of course it wasn't, kid." Bones had reappeared, wearing a ratty old t-shirt that said "STARFLEET" across the chest and gym shorts. He braced his arms on either side of the narrow door frame. "The truth is, he was going to wash out anyway. The fellas been on a tail spin for longer than that now. Word gets around."

Jim nodded, his mouth forming a thin line at the thought, he'd definitely heard the stories. Aim for the stars they say, enroll in Starfleet. But no one acknowledges the war at home. Defending earth, the federation's most single critical post in the system on the ground from an whole host of alien species paying the planet a visit. Crime among humans was uncommon on earth, but open your doors to enough Ferengi and Klingon and you'd get to see all sorts of illegal activity. What always seems to be an easy alternative to four years training for warp is really just five years of preparing for the front lines, the last line of defense from whoever intends to disturb the bubble of peace on their homeworld. All of this under a less glamorous subdivision of starfleet: planetory protection. Ugly police work, and once you realized what you'd signed up for it was sink or swim.

The stress of constant military level combat training and outerspecies sensitivity classes took its toll. It had taken its toll on Gary Mitchell apparently, his performance scores had been slipping long before Jim had anything to do with it. The person Jim had once called his friend had become an increasingly paranoid xenophobe. A red flag in this line of work where they'd be expected to deescalate all kinds of altercations with aliens from far parts of the federation. His seat in the few classes he shared with Jim had been neglected lately, and on more than one ocassion Jim had caught him picking fights with other trainees, especially the non-human ones.

Jim sighed, "Damn, I can't believe I never picked up on this. I thought he was just stressed."

"We all are." There was a weariness to McCoy's voice when he said it.

Jim let his head fall back and it hit the wall lightly with a full thud, he stared up at the white featureless ceiling of their dorm. "I don't know why he's angry at me, I wasn't the only one who got a perfect score."

"Yeah? I'm willing to bet that was Spock." McCoy turned away from the doorframe to disappear once more into the darkness of his bedroom, presumably to prepare for bed.

"Spock?"

"That vulcan fella in section eight. The guy's gotta be the top of our class."

"Huh." Jim scanned his memory. "Never heard of him."

"Course you wouldn't, he doesn't talk to anyone."

"Why not?"

There was a pause and then a response in a sleepy voice, "How would I know, never met the guy."

Jim stared at the door to his friends room for a few minutes, and when he thought the doctor had drifted off to sleep for sure the southern drawl carried out into the living room again.

"Go to sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be long."

Jim woke up on the floor next to the couch an embarrassingly short number of hours later, the hardwood floors unforgiving against his back. McCoy's alarm was shrill and punishing against his eardrums. Surely he hadn't had that much to drink last night. Soon after he could hear the racket as Bones knocked the alarm, and probably half of the things on his dresser, down in the process of shutting off the damn thing. He listened as the older man swore and moved about his room in his morning routine. Jim wondered, not for the first time, why the hell he had to end up rooming with someone who clearly hated mornings but always insisted on being up at ass-o clock.

His own alarm wasn't set to go off for at least another hour, but he was already up and not exactly in the position to try and catch some extra sleep. Jim picked himself up the floor instead, dragging himself over to their small kitchenette to groan a request for two cups of coffee.

"Coffee, black, two sugars." There was a chirp before the glass mug materialized on the replicator counter. He picked it up, put in an order for McCoy's preference and placed it down as the doctor stepped out into the living area with a toothbrush hanging out the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks" He grumbled, causing toothpaste to dribble down onto his shirt onto his shirt as he accepted the mug from Jim.

By the time they were finally stepping out of their building to head to their first lecture of the day, the sun was still just peering over the horizon and casting the campus grounds in the orange tint of dawn. Despite this, there seemed to be more activity on the campus than usual. Jim watched as a group of fully outfitted officers marched a path by them.

"Bit early for all this, ain't it?" Bones remarked.

Jim had to agree; groups of starfleet cadets and trainees were gathering to discuss whatever it was that was causing all the commotion. He broke into a jog as he approached the source of the problem, ignoring Bones calls as he maneuvered his way through the gathering of students and staff members. When he'd finally moved to the front of the crowd, he found that he was blocked by police barrier. The force field faded in and out of sight in the sun as the words "ROAD CLOSED PENDING INVESTIGATION" moved across the holo projection repeatedly in warning. There were a couple of androids patrolling the area but in the distance Jim could see that rest of them were collecting samples by the mouth of the marsh.

The press was still pulling up the road in shuttles, some of them unpacking their equipment or mid-report, but something told him that the police had been out here for longer than that. His stomach sank at the realization that just hours earlier, he alone had been down the same path by the marshes. Had they discovered a body floating in the murky waters? Or perhaps he'd somehow made his way through a crime scene. A random act of violence? Had he dodged a bullet, he wondered.

"Christ, what's this about." He jumped slightly at the sound of McCoy's too close voice behind him. His friend had followed him into the thick of the crowd and returned to his side, now accompanied by Sulu and Uhura.

Nyota was the first to answer. Jim turned to glance at her; she had her arms crossed across her chest tightly, either a reaction to the cold of the early hours of the day or the scene in front of her. "You know I bet this had something to do with the last two murders on the presidio. They're saying they might be connected."

"Of course they're connected, three murders around here!?" McCoy exclaimed, "The academy has to be one of the most heavily protected parts of the city nevermind the entire planet."

Bones was right, if these murders were getting this much attention than they couldn't just be a one off thing; The amount of starfleet security patrolling meant very little slipped by planetary protection. If there was speculation by the press about this being a serial killer then Jim didn't doubt that they were connected. "Do they know who it is yet?"

"If they do, they haven't said anything." Sulu replied. "But so close to the campus, it's gotta be a student right?"

Their morning lecture turned out to be cancelled for unknown reasons that Jim guessed had something to do with the investigation. If Sulu was right, the powers that be and academy faculty probably needed the extra time to pull together an official comment for the press.

Bones had gone off after that, citing that he was needed at the clinic. And since they didn't exactly share a schedule or specialization course in the program, promised to join him for lunch later. Jim found that as graduation approached, he saw less and less of his friend.

He spent the next two hours or so during the gap for his next lecture scrolling through his PADD and reading about the last two murders Nyota had mentioned earlier.

The first victim had been a twenty-three year old science officer, Kim MacDermott. She'd been weeks away from a post on the USS Constellation prior to her disappearance. Her body had eventually washed up on Bakers Beach to be discovered by morning joggers. That was three months ago; Jim hadn't seen the report when it happened but it seemed that they'd initially written it off as an accident when they found some alcohol in her system. The case was apparently being looked at from a new perspective, and when Jim tapped the most recent interview with the victim's family he was faced with the image of a teary-eyed woman with fiery red hair and a equally somber man; Kim's parents.

The woman's voice drifted out of the PADD's speakers as the video began to play, "Everyone who knew our daughter, knew that she was both incredibly kind and hardworking. Hardworking until the end. She was everything that Starfleet claims to stand for." She paused, catching a breath before continuing, "When she was ripped away from us and everything that she had spent the past four years working for, Starfleet, instead of seeking justice, sought an easy answer. Kim was so much more than a victim of poor judgement, and so I stand here to ask again that anyone who may have information about that night come forward.."

Jim flicked his hand over the screen to stop the video, and scrolled further down the page to read the rest of the article. It made sense that they were looking at it now as a potential murder. The second victim less than a month later had been directly connected to the first. Iris Tam. According to several sources they'd been in the same social circle of academy graduates, and it was confirmed that they'd been in contact the night of Kim's murder. At the time, Tam's ex-boyfriend had been bought in as a suspect on the possibility that Kim had simply gotten in between a lovers quarrel. The charges hadn't stuck however, and investigators had settled on the idea that the deaths were close but unrelated.

The next few articles more or less recycled the same set of information, with speculation about the identity of the apparent latest victim in what the feed was already calling the presidio murderers. It was too early to build an official story, and Jim made a note to watch the case over the next few days. He looked down at the time displayed on the screen and begin to gather his things to leave the spot he'd settled into in the library cafe.

On the one hand, he felt disgust at the idea that there was someone going around attacking young officers on campus. There was also however, a sort of morbid fascination that came with this sort of case and made him attracted to the idea of working in the planetary protection agency's violent crime unit. James had spent countless hours at some point reading old case files in the old police archives. Serial killers were a rarity, especially in the 23rd century. It made sense then, why investigators had been so hesitant to entertain the idea. This was especially the so when, such as the case often was with serial killers, there seemed to be nothing tying the victims together asides from their starfleet backgrounds.

Most of his morning passed with little further excitement, and he was surprised when one of his professors called out to him as he was heading out of the lecture hall.

"Mr. Kirk, do you have a moment."

A few other trainees glanced at him as they moved past him in the aisle but he nodded before taking the remaining steps down to meet the older man at the center of the room.

"Professor Koyama" Jim had read some of his profiles prior to enrolling in his course in the academy, and his career in planetary protection had been a point of interest and mild hero worship. The now retired lecturer was something of a legend in his field for his work dismantling a Klingon crime syndicate and uncovering a mass bombing plot.

"Yes, Mr. Kirk. I'll make it brief." He was pulling a pile of PADDS into a single stack as he spoke, and he looked up at Jim with a smile. "I heard that you did well on the 264 yesterday evening."

"I did what I could."

"Ha!" Koyama let out a bark of laughter and placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, "No need for modesty. I know got a perfect score, highest in your section in fact. I've been watching you for some time Mr. Kirk."

"Sir?"

"It's not just your skills in the range, you've also excelled overall in the program haven't you Mr. Kirk." He didn't wait for Jim's answer, "I also know you've submitted a preliminary application for the violent crimes unit, not an easy placement after graduation."

"Yes I understand that sir, but I've never had an interest in what was easy."

Koyama considered this for a minute before letting out a bark of laughter, "Is that so. Well then, how would you be interested in shadowing me. I'm going to be serving as lead consultant on the Presidio case. I figure a trainee in your position might have a lot to learn, and it'd close the deal on your application."

"You don't have to convince me, sir. It'd be an honor." That was an understatement. Jim was already struggling to contain his excitement at the thought that he might get an early start on the rest of his career, he'd be more or less where the action was if he was going to be shadowing Koyama.

"Don't thank me too soon, It's going to be a lot of grunt work for you most of the time. I was allowed to bring you and another trainee on with me on the condition that you'd be serving as a temporary intern for the agency."

Jim would serve coffee for the rest of his life if it meant that he might get to secure an investigator position in the VC unit. "Another trainee?"

Koyama nodded and attempted to gather the stack of PADD's and his suitcase in his arms. Jim crouched down to pick up a PADD that came loose and slid to the floor as a result. They made their way to the top of the stairs and stopped by the exit briefly.

"Yes, you'll have some help in your new duties. Perhaps you know him; Spock?

Jim recognized the name as the one McCoy had attached to the faceless ID number on the 264 scoreboard.

"No, I'm not familiar."

"Ah well, you'll get the chance tomorrow then. I'd like you to report at 1500 hours for an official briefing on the case."

"I'll be there, sir."

Koyama accepted his response and disappeared down the hall, a stack of PADDs with legs.

"That's great news, Jim." Bones lifted a glass of thai iced tea in his honor at the news about his position as Koyama's shadow.

They were sitting in a booth at an asian fusion cafe just outside the academy grounds for lunch. It was thankfully, not too busy at this time of day due to its somewhat isolated location. They were, as usual, generally alone in the place with the exception of the waiters and an Andorian couple enjoying a lunch special some tables away.

"Yeah, this could really make my application for the VCU stand out."

"That's a big deal. I know a lot of folks who are dyin for that job." McCoy agreed.

"Apparently Spock is one of those people."

"Spock?" Bones set his glass down abruptly in surprise.

"Yeah, he's also going to be shadowing Koyama."

"Yeah? You think a Vulcan would find that line of work unappealing."

"Well, he's a trainee just like the rest of us." Jim remarked.

"S'pose so, but you gotta admit it's a bit strange that a vulcan would be here in the first place."

"I'm sure there's a logical reason for b it."

Before they could speculate he was immedietly distracted by the headlines on the news feed playing on the screen at the front of the cafe. Bones turned to watch as well as soon as he realized what it was that had Jim suddenly staring over his shoulder.

"Law enforcement officials have formally identified and released the identity of the latest victim in the presidio murderers: twenty-two year old police academy student, Gary Mitchell. Sources say that police are more investigating his death in connection to the recent deaths of two Starfleet graduates..."

Jim stopped listening to the reporters words as he grappled with the understanding of the latest victims identity.

"Jim." McCoy didn't say anything, simply stared at him from across their lunch with wide eyes as they both processed the new information.

Gary Mitchell was dead.


End file.
